What good it is to be best in show when the competition is lame, crooked, or outright fake? Fischli’s Kennel Club parade of papier mâché dogs and stuffed cats is so inclusive that a plissé pug, a cross-stitch beaver, and even a tartan bunny have snuck onto the catwalk. In the gallery’s pristine interior, this motley victory parade is watched over by a canary and a feline with a fetish for denim. These natural enemies have suspended their squabbles so they can lull their prey into a sense of security as fragile as the gypsum fur ornaments that are the source of their pride.
What this contest lacks in hierarchy, it compensates for in irreverence. Fischli’s manner is not dissimilar to that of her namesake and countryman Peter (of ‘and Weiss’ fame), and her humorous affectation can today come across as insincere or imprecise. But if taken at face value, this project’s satire gets it the rosette.
